


truth or dare

by tamaslin



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, i'm in pain from caleb this is called coping, shamelessly hinted at beauyasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 21:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14627040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamaslin/pseuds/tamaslin
Summary: while mollymauk achieves godhood and caleb reveals far more than he wanted to, the others are left to their own devices. they pass time in the only acceptable way, really.





	truth or dare

**Author's Note:**

> (based in ep. 18)
> 
> caleb's backstory hurt me way too much so i needed to write something to cushion the blow. based off of laura saying they totally played truth or dare.

“Hey Yasha. Truth or dare?”

She’s had her share of truths for the day but there’s something shining in Jester’s violet eyes that begs her to hesitate over the word ‘dare’. Seated on the floor of their room in the Pillow Trove, the tiefling hugs a pillow to her chest as she waits. Gaze locked with singular focus onto her. Beneath the attention, Yasha shifts. Can almost feel Fjord’s sympathy where he sits on the other bed.

From the room over there’s another chorus of giggles. Fjord winces.

“Truth? Yeah, truth,” she says and regret becomes the shape of Jester’s smile. 

“Okay. But you have to be _totally_ truthful, okay? Like, really, really truthful.” At her nod, Jester claps her hands together. Leans forward with such an intensity that for a moment Yasha sees her tumble. An alternate future that frees her from the question that follows. “Do you think that I’m the attractive one in the group?”

There’s a creeping blush she feels coming up the back of her neck, reddening the pale of her cheeks just a slight amount. _Oh, that_. From before. Barbarian shifts again, crosses her arms as though that may save her some crumbling dignity.

“I, that, well. I - I.” _Yasha’s the charm_. She can almost hear Mollymauk say beneath the laughter that comes through the walls. _Yasha smooth-talker_. “I mean, you are cute? Yeah, you’re cute.”

“I knew it. You know, you’re right. I am _really_ cute.” The wolves fed, Jester’s posture straightens until she’s no longer in danger of toppling over. “Okay okay, now you go.”

‘ _How long does it take to order food?_ ’ Something not laughter comes from the other room and she catches the tense line of Fjord’s shoulder from the corner of her eye.

“Alright. Fjord, would you like to tell the truth or be dared?”

Yellow eyes jump to meet hers and she watches as his jaw works while he thinks, the subtle grind of teeth within his mouth. Jester’s eyes flicker to him at the sound and she looks to be about to point it out when his smooth drawl cuts through the room.

“May as well take a dare.”

“I dare you to -” Outside the room, footsteps catch her attention but they pass their room by. “Lick, lick the little things on your sword. The sea-things.”

“Barnacles,” he corrects but mouth curves downward. A wave of his hand through the air and the falchion appears in his grip, water drips against the wooden floor. There’s a moment where his upper lip curls back and she hesitates. What are the rules for this game should he not want to do it? The look on Jester’s face is the look right before mischief. Calculation in the mind of someone far more clever than she let on. 

But after a moment of silence and dripping water he lifts the blade up and sticks his tongue out. It’s less of a _lick_ and more of the tap of his tongue against the shells crusted near the hilt of the weapon, but it’ll do.

“You know, you’re not that impressive at licking swords. You could probably use a few pointers.” Jester cuts the moment with her quick words, bubbling out around giggles from her place on the bed until they register in Fjord’s mind and he splutters. Dissipates the blade back to wherever it was held before. The green hue to his face darkens and his head ducks in an attempt to hide it.

It doesn’t conceal the way the tips of his ears darken as well, and Jester’s laughter shows it.

“Well alright then,” he manages after a moment. Doesn’t respond to Jester’s laughter still filling the room. “Yasha. Truth or dare?”

‘ _Revenge_ ,’ is her first thought but it doesn’t bring about the response to flee. To make an excuse and vanish into the air like they’ve become used to. A small smile, curling at the corners of her mouth. Dangerous, unfamiliar situation. She’s not concerned by the gleam in his eyes. Her chin lifts to meet the challenge and there’s another silence.

“Dare.”

“Hoo buddy.” He’s been taking lessons from Jester on how to look positively up to n good and again Yasha waits for the urge to run. To leave before they get close enough to hurt her.

She leans closer. Challenger to challenge.

“I dare you to let Beau beat you in arm wrestling. Whenever she gets back.”

He holds her pride higher than she does and Yasha raises an eyebrow, recalling back to the Pentamarket earlier that day. Beauregard’s arm slamming into the table and then her match. The low voice of Gunther in her memory -‘ _you’re not from around here_ ’ - and the fury that it caused.

“Okay? That’s all? I can do that,” she says and Fjord deflates. Leans against the wall then straightens immediately after as though he recalls what’s happening behind his back.

Clockwork, more giggles from the other room.

The rounds carry on. ‘ _I dare you to do a handstand and recite this poem’ ‘Really, Jester?’ - ‘Truth? Okay, are you wearing underwear right now?’ ‘No.’ ‘Oh ew, Yasha. Just ew._ ’ And again she waits for the urge to run. For the walls around her to fill her with dread, her skin to itch and storm clouds to gather outside. It’s been days since she’s heard the thunder.

Fjord is halfway through speaking the Orcish alphabet in reverse when the handle to the door turns and in pushes a flash of blue. Familiar tanned skin and Yasha stops being entertained by the half-orc’s attempts. Dim candle light catches the blue of Beauregard’s eyes, the curve of her smile and the line of her jaw. Golden, and Yasha’s laughter halts in her throat. There’s food, too, meat and bread piled on the plate she carries as she marches into the room. (Without Nott - ‘ _She’d better not have eaten my rat_.’)

“What’d I miss?”

“Perfect timing. Beau, truth or dare?” His attempts at the Orcish alphabet forgotten, Fjord straightens from his spot as he’s handed the plate. Beau settles on the space beside him and her brows crease. The shine of her piercings catch in the light. Mismatched eyes follow the glint, the way Beau’s smile returns, confident, after she processes the question.

“What? Dare me.” All it takes is a moment for the monk to catch onto the air of the room, the situation she’s walked into and her shoulders straighten. 

“I dare you to arm wrestle Yasha.”

From where Beau sits, her eyes lock with the barbarian on the ground. There’s something there, the same thing as when earlier Yasha had felt a warm hand on her back, through the fabric of her clothes. That same warmth without contact now in her stomach.

_Run_. Comes the whisper in her mind.

Yasha holds out her hand. Raises an eyebrow.

Smiling, Beauregard takes it.


End file.
